


Lo

by Silvergray1358



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Lo (2009), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Boyfriends, Demons, Eventual Smut, Hell, Love Story, M/M, Rescue Missions, Rimming, Spooky Romcom, Torture, Violence, warnings for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-25 04:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16190090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvergray1358/pseuds/Silvergray1358
Summary: When Wade is kidnapped in the night by a supernatural force, Peter will stop at nothing to get him back. How difficult could it be to summon a demon?





	1. Lo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was just about to start part 6 of my Spideypool series, but while I was outlining it and watching one of my all-time favorite movies Lo (2009, directed and written by Travis Betz) I knew I had to do a spooky, October-inspired, Spideypool version. Some parts I've faithfully kept the same while others I've altered for my needs (coughallthesmutcough), but if you haven't seen the film it is always a great time if you can find it out there.

     It was pitch-black, shadows consuming everything until the lighter snapped and the first candle’s wick caught flame. The yellow-orange light threw flickering shapes across Peter’s face as he lowered the candle down to the floor and sat cross-legged beside it, directly in the center of the circle painted on the ground. One by one, he lit all six candles placed around him until the low flames illuminated a bubble of dim light so he could finally see enough to read.

     His heart was already racing in his chest by the time he reached back to pick up the heavy, leather-bound book off the floor behind him. That haunting, mocking eye on the cover stared un-blinking at him--raising the goosebumps on his arms like it always did-- and he swallowed the dryness in his throat and opened the book. The pages fell to where a glossy photograph stood stuck between the sheets.

     Peter took the photo and paused to look at it for the hundredth time that night. It had been one of his most favorite shots he had ever taken: Wade laughing when Peter had cracked some joke before snapping the photo. It was like a private smile, only meant for Peter, and it twisted his heart up in funny ways.

     Peter shook his head and placed the photo aside, moving back to the page he had bookmarked.

     The circle he sat in seemed almost completely identical to the pentagram in the book but at the last second he noticed one final detail. Stretching back behind him, he just got a grasp on the open can of white paint and fished the paintbrush out of it. With a hand that he had to focus to keep steady, he touched the brush to one painted serpent and added the missing horns to the top of its head.

     Now it was complete.

     Peter flipped the dry, yellowed page of the book and saw another illustration before him. A drawn blade, dripping with scarlet drops of blood, above the eye in the center of the star’s point that laid replicated on the floor directly in front of him.

     He cursed under his breath and jumped up, running out of the circle and knocking over a candle with the side of his sneaker in the process. Double cursing, Peter tipped the candle upright before the flame could even wink out and scurried off into the darkness to return only a moment later with the forgotten knife clenched in his sweaty palm. He ran back and knocked the same candle over again.

     “Such an idiot…” Peter sighed, shoulders deflating as he fixed it one more time and sat in his spot in the center once more.

     His briefly forgotten nerves re-ignited looking at the evil book resting open.

     “Okay… okay,” he whispered. Peter took two steadying breaths, his right hand squeezing the handle of the knife in nervous pulses, before he pulled the blade across the palm of his left hand. The skin split in an instant from the razor-keen edge of metal and in only a millisecond the blood pooled in his palm as Peter hissed from the hot flash of pain.    

     He curled his fingers into a fist over the open wound and tipped his hand over, letting the drops of blood squeeze out between his fingers and drip into the dead center of the painted eye. The garnet liquid splashed onto the black pupil and although it wasn’t too late to turn back now, Peter still felt as though he couldn’t possibly stop after coming this far.

     Looking down at the page, Peter read the incantation:

     “ _Sangui meus, vocare meum_ ,” he said with a shaking voice. With every word he spoke, the very air seemed to vibrate with energy. The tension crackled like a thunderstorm on the horizon. Distantly, the sounds of voices on the wind chorused the words as they left his lips.

     “ _Antiquis est, sangui meus vocare meum. Ego convocabo Lo_.”

     Static white noise rattled in the back of Peter’s skull, shimmering in his molars and tickling his spine. Even so, he raised his voice and carried on.

     “ _Sanguis meus quia Lo! EGO CONVOCABO LO_!”

     Everything went silent. Even the buzzing invading his head vanished in a blink. Peter glanced around. Eyebrows knitting, he flipped the page in the book and sighed in exacerbation at his own dumbness.

     Following the instructions drawn before him, Peter turned the knife in his grip and stabbed it down into the center of the painted eye.

     Wind gusted around him, opening the violent portal to Hell, and the candles surrounding him winked out. Just as soon as it came the wind vanished and Peter was left sitting in the darkness. His shaky, uninjured hand searched the space around him and his heart un-clenched from the fear overtaking him a little when his fingers landed on the lighter again.

     He lit all six candles before he heard it.

     The prehistoric moans of an ancient creature being awoken echoed in the darkness and if he squinted he could just make out the monster’s form a few yards away from him. The monster laid on the floor towards Peter and an arm came out to drag it’s body forward.

     Nightmarish dread soaked Peter’s veins as he watched the demon creep ever closer. The light of the candles was too weak to cast a long glow but tiny glimpses of horrific skin pulled over gnarly limbs made the hair on Peter’s neck stand up.

     The demon dragged itself the final stretch until it was directly outside of the painted circle. Up close, Peter could see all too clearly the greyish, molten, gangrenous flesh of the creature’s form. It looked hardly human and yet very humanoid in shape--if a human were to move belly-down on the ground. The demon took a second to size Peter up, raising up on its hands and getting as close to the edge of the circle as possible, before it let out a massive howl that echoed and throbbed in the air like the space was both vast and as cramped as a cocoon around them. Then the monster fell silent as if waiting for a response.

     “Are… are you the Demon Lo?” Peter asked.

     “I am that,” Lo responded. His voice was gravely and masculine sounding although Peter really didn’t know if demons had genders or not.

     “And you have great power?”

     “That… is for certain,” Lo smirked, the black irises of his eyes sparkling in the bloodshot whites.

     With an exaggerated flourish Lo leaned back and made a sweeping, bowing gesture the best he could while still technically laying on the ground. Manners made, Lo finished his grand motion with a point behind Peter’s shoulder.

     He turned his head and directly behind him, spot-lit from some unknown light source, was a huge rat. Not huge as in particularly fat, but huge as in almost the size of Peter himself. It sat squatting and gnawing on something rotten and black in its fleshy rat-hands but after only a second it seemed to notice Peter and Lo and it raised its head slowly to stare at the two of them with it’s black, beady eyes.

     Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Lo’s raised fist open flat in the air before he slowly began closing it again. The rat-being immediately started screaming; terrible, high-pitched squeals that pierced Peter’s ears. The more Lo closed his fist the louder the horrific screams got and all Peter could do was clap his hands over his ears before his eardrums burst. Lo’s fist closed completely and the rat’s head exploded clean out the top of its skull in a spray of viscera. Its body fell with a wet slap on the ground and Peter spun his head back, stomach turning violently.

     Lo opened his fist, pretended to blow out an imaginary cloud of dust and then rested his head in his hand lazily.

     “Now clean the shit from your pants and tell me what you want,” Lo demanded.

     Peter whipped his head back to the rat but there was nothing but darkness behind the row of candles once more.

     “Oh,” he breathed. “Uh… I’m looking for a man.”

     “He owe you money or something?”

     “No. He’s my boyfriend,” Peter whispered.

     “You summoned me for love?!” Lo snapped.

     “Yes…”

     “You would throw away my great power over such human trivialities?!”

     Peter squared his shoulders. “You have to do what I say.”

     “Look at you, pretending to be brave,” Lo scoffed. “What’s your name?”

     “...Peter.”

     “That’s a terrible name--doesn’t fit your future. Allow me to baptize you...ah! I know… Dinner!” Lo laughed.

     “It’s Peter,” he reinforced.

     “Dinner, you have to let go of the past.”

     “I summoned you,” Peter stated. “You have to obey my charge.” He wished he sounded more commanding than how his scared voice came out.

     The smile fell off Lo’s face.

     “That might be loosely true but I’m under no obligation to respect you AND given the opportunity… I will eat you.”

     “I’m not afraid.”

     A scowl etched onto Lo’s face and he growled. It was deep and animalistic like a giant dog with rabies.

     “Yes, you are,” Lo said.

     Peter swallowed around the dryness in his throat. Lo sighed and looked around.

     “Where the fuck am I?”

     “My apartment…”

     “Oooo,” Lo exclaimed. “Dramatic! Mind if I make a few changes?”

     Before Peter had a chance to respond, Lo made another lazy gesture with his hand and a light came on above him to give a little more light than the weak candle flames. His eyes landed on the book in front of Peter.

     “Now where would a stringy pork chop like you get such an old goat?”

     Peter considered his options for a minute but in the end figured that there would probably be no use lying to a demon. They were supposed to be the masters of lies after all, right?

     “It’s not mine.”

     “Really?” Lo sighed and rolled his eyes. “I would have pegged you as a class-A warlock.”

     “It belonged to him,” Peter explained. He plucked the photo of Wade off the ground and held it up for Lo to see.

     “Ooo, handsome. Not his best angle though.”

     “Do you know him?” Peter raised his eyebrow.

     “Nooo…” Lo dragged on, glancing off somewhere to the right.

     “You’re lying!”

     “I warn you, Dinner,” Lo growled. “Trying to read a demon is a thorny game.”

     “You took him.”

     “ _I_ took him?”

     “No, not you specifically but… your people.”

     Lo gasped. “Oh, I knew it. You’re racist!”

     Peter scoffed at the stupid joke. “He was taken by some...thing! A demon!” He lifted his shirt. Under the fabric were four long, angry-looking slash marks down the length of his chest.

     Lo hummed in acknowledgement.

     “You sure it wasn’t a bear? I hear they’re getting braver these days.”

     “I’m not an idiot. Yeah, I might just be a bug to you but I’m not a fool, okay. He was taken by something--something like you. I thought I was dying and it took Wade!”

     “ _It took Wade_ ,” Lo said in a high, sing-songy way to mock Peter’s voice. “Look. Let me give you a nugget of advice. Page 303. It’s a closing spell. Send me away before I get _really_ hungry.”

     Peter slammed the book closed.

     “I’m not leaving without him.”

     “Look, Dinner. If what you’re telling me is true, and I’m sure it is, the simple fact is… you’re fucked. You don’t get out of hell, cousin.”

     “I want to see him.”

     Lo sighed. “Well I don’t know him.”

     “His name is Wade.”

     Lo sighed again, even more exaggerated and obnoxious than before. “Yes, and he’s the apple of your eye and the wind beneath your wings. Honestly though, kid? I’m sure you two had a deep and emotional connection but the simple fact is: Hell is a big place. Kinda roomy… endless amounts of souls… been around since, I don’t know, the dawn of man? We don’t keep records.”

     Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

     “Then I’ll wait.”

     “What? No. What?”

     “While you look for him,” Peter explained.

     “Nooooo...no,” Lo said resolutely. “I’m busy.” He made to drag himself back the way he came but Peter refused to let him leave that easily.

     “I am your master.”

     “Ah-huh,” Lo dismissed.

     “Demon! I am your master!”

     “What you’re asking is impossible!”

     “But I’m still asking it,” Peter breathed.

     Lo growled under his breath, pulling himself up on his arms to make himself eye-level with Peter again. “Frightened children shouldn’t play with pentagrams. If you so much as put a pinky outside that circle I will have you in my belly for ninety years. That’s how long it takes my assets to break down a little bitch like you.”

     Peter held up the photo of Wade again, a silent response. Lo sighed and tossed his head like an annoyed teenager. He looked up to the sky and whispered ‘ _fuck me’_ under his breath.

     “So, Wade!” Lo shouted.

     “Wade Wilson,’ Peter stated.

     “Stupid name for a human. Tell me about him.”

     “Just find him for me,” Peter demanded.

     “That’s what I’m trying to do,” Lo explained as if to a five-year-old. “The better versed I am with your Romeo, the better chance I have of finding him out of the billions of dark matter floating around in torment.”

     “Oh…”

     “Yes, oh.”

     “W-What do you want to know?” Peter worried.

     “I want details...emotional ones! I want to feel your pain for him.”

     “Well,” Peter started, toying with the sleeve of his shirt. “He’s six-foot-two... blond, short hair, ah--”

     “Stop!” Lo bellowed. “Goddamn, Dinner, you are stupid. I asked you for emotional details! How you met, how you fought. How you fucked! Ate, bathed, insulted, KILLED!” A growl rumbled deep in Lo’s chest. “Don’t give me his stats, I’m not casting a movie.”

     “So, you want... _details_ ,” Peter blushed.

     “Yes!”

     “Like… how we first met?”

     “YES! The sound of music said it best.”

     “Well, um… I was on lunch break at a restaurant I go to…”

     The sudden sound of clapping broke out behind Peter and he spun around in his spot to see a stage set before him. An actual stage, although it was small and low budget-looking, was lit up; red-velvet curtains drawn, painted background set, and a double of Peter himself sitting at a prop table.  

     “W-What?” he chuckled breathlessly.

     “It’s flashback time!” Lo smiled, jazz hands beside his head.

     Peter turned back and watched the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to keep plugging away at this while I finish outlining my next big fic. Thanks for reading so far!


	2. Jeez and the Go To Hells

     “That’s me?” Peter gasped. It was so very strange seeing himself sitting there on the stage; like a dream or one of those out-of-body experiences.

     “No. That’s me pulling the thoughts from your brain and projecting them on that wall over there,” Lo explained.

     Peter spun his head back in shock and Lo nodded with a smile.

     “I know, right?” Lo reached off the to side and grabbed a bucket of popcorn out of thin air. “Now hush, let’s see what happens.”

On the stage, Peter was sat at a small table, doodling on the corner of his napkin: a fly trapped in an intricate web with a big, hungry spider watching its prey. In front of him sat a burrito on a plate but it laid untouched as Peter lazily drew. From stage-left entered Wade with a heavy-looking briefcase dangling by his side. An invisible audience began applauding and then faded away.

     “Hi!” Wade smiled.

     The Peter on the stage looked up, a bit surprised by the sudden stranger at his table.

     “Hi…”

     The man standing before him was tall and muscular, possibly in his late twenties or early thirties, and extremely handsome. His short, blond hair was buzzed neat at the sides and his built physique screamed ex-military. His strong jaw was rough with five-o’clock shadow though and the easy smile on his face gave him a casual air.

     “Is that good?” Wade asked, pointing at Peter’s plate.

     “Yeah, it’s okay. I mean-- it’s good.”

     “Can I try it?” Wade asked. His voice was so earnest and curious but Peter was shocked by a random stranger on the street suddenly asking to eat his food. Wade’s face fell as he waited. “Your silence says no…”

     “No! No, you can,” Peter said, shaking his head to himself. “Do you want a bite?”

     “Yeah, I would!” Wade grinned. He slammed his briefcase down on the table and sat across from Peter. He picked the burrito up and took a huge bite.

     “Mmmm, shit!” Wade moaned. “That’s good! Mmm, like crazy good…” He took another large bite and his eyes rolled in his head as he nodded. “This is insane…”

     “Would you like one?” Peter smirked. He couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his lips; this man was just so weird but kind of likable at the same time.

     “Yes!” Wade gasped.

     Peter chuckled and looked around for the waiter to sign him down. From stage-right, a man dressed in black slacks, white button-up, thin black tie, and apron tied around his waist checked his breath in his palm before he strolled out. The phantom applause picked up for a second and then faded out again.

     “I thought you said you were eating alone?” the waiter sassed with a sigh.

     “Well, I am. I was… I don’t know… Is that a problem?”  

     “I guess not,” the waiter replied-- although he rolled his eyes while he said it. Something about the man seemed off, or maybe Peter just misremembered what he had looked like, but he spoke exactly as he recalled.

     “Can I just get another burrito please?” Peter asked.

     The waiter glanced over at Wade who pulled out a slice of jalapeno to sniff it before he popped it in his mouth and continued wolfing down the burrito.

     “Should I put a rush on that?”

     Peter didn’t get a chance to respond before the waiter was already gone once more. Wade swallowed down his mouthful and glanced over at Peter, eyeing him sitting awkwardly in the seat across from him.

     “Oh my shit, I’m sorry,” Wade gasped. He frowned down at Peter’s half-gone burrito in his hands.

     “Oh no, really! I wasn’t very hungry and there’s another one on the way.”

     “I just don’t eat much--I mean, at least I didn’t use to, but I plan on eating tons now!”

     Peter raised an eyebrow. That was a strange thing for the man to say. Just looking at him he had to be over 200 pounds and mainly solid muscle by the way his chest and arms filled out the t-shirt he was wearing.

     Wade glanced around, even checking behind him, before he went back in for another bite.

     “Are you…” Peter leaned in close to whisper. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

     Wade swallowed and did another head-swivel around, more thorough than last time.

     “Well, I’m on the run if that’s what you mean.”

     Peter’s mouth dropped open. Wade watched his face for a second but then his eyes crinkled and a huge grin broke out across his attractive face.

     “That was stupid,” Wade laughed. “I just liked the way you were holding yourself. It was interesting and your burrito looked ace.”

     Peter sat back in his chair and chuckled nervously. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and he tried not to wiggle in his seat.

     “How was I holding myself?”

     Wade pretended to be Peter, hunched over his napkin drawing, barbaric and awkward-like and both of them broke out laughing.

     “See?” Wade asked once he caught his breath. “You’re laughing at yourself. That’s so… weirdly… great!”

     “I assure you,” Peter stated. “There’s nothing ‘weirdly great’ about me. I’m… I’m Peter.” He extended his hand and Wade dropped his cherished burrito to shake his hand in a strong grip.

     “Peter, Peter, Peter,” Wade whispered. It was as if he was trying to remember something complex.

     “And you are?” Peter tried, hand still trapped in Wade’s very long handshake.

     “I am what?”

     Peter laughed. “Your name is…”

     Wade pulled his hand back like Peter’s skin scorched him. Fear danced across his face.

     “Cade...Slade…Quaid…” he mumbled under his breath until he exclaimed, “Wade!”

     “Stop!” Lo shouted.

     The Peter and Wade on the stage paused and broke character to relax back into their seats.

     “Ooo! Oh oh oh! Dinner!” Lo whooped. His hand rose up into the air like a student in a classroom. “I have a question! Did your boyfriend just make up his name?”

     Peter’s eyebrows knitted in thought. “You’re deceiving me!”

     “Oh please,” Lo rolled his eyes. “THIS would be deceiving you…” Lo pointed back to the stage where the scene was back in action.

     Wade was sitting at the table, his hands gripping the edges as he sat poised in his seat like he was ready to spring into action. His blond hair tousled sexily in the breeze from the waiter standing behind Peter with a box fan hoisted in his arms and pointed at Wade.  

     “Peter,” Wade spoke. His voice was like maple syrup and cigarettes after sex and it made Peter’s blood heat up. “I have been wandering the world searching for one mortal man who could make my body quake with sex. When I saw you, I thought the planet was going to blow the fuck up if you didn’t ravish me then and there on the spot.”

     Wade swiped everything off the table with a crash. He stood up and spun to drape himself upside down across the tabletop.

     “Now,” Wade moaned. “Do me like a pornstar in front of all these jerkoffs.”

     The Peter on the stage stood up, shoving the chair back from the table. He wasted no time ripping open the button on his jeans and tugging down the fly before he propped his hands over Wade on the table and got into a 69 position.

     “Stop! Stop!” Peter interrupted.

     “What? That didn’t happen?” Lo smirked.

     “Just play the scene right.” His face had to be bright red from embarrassment.

     “That’s _your_ responsibility, but be available to see things diversely. Watching your life is a different experience than remembering it.”

     Peter turned back to the stage and things were exactly as they had been before Lo’s tangent. The waiter came back out with a new burrito in hand and put the plate down in front of Peter without a word. Peter switched it with Wade’s empty one.

     “No--” Wade started

     “Really. I’m not hungry,” he smiled. Wade returned the smile and went back to eating. Peter checked the time on his phone and sighed. “I have to go back to work…”

     “Why?”

     “Why?” Peter chuckled. “Well, because I have to.”

     “Sounds boring.” Wade’s nose scrunched up and Peter couldn’t help but think how stupidly cute it was.

     Peter nodded in response. His eyes drifted over to the briefcase on the table and curiosity got the best of him.  “What’s in there?”

     “A book.”

     “That’s it?” Peter gave the briefcase a skeptical look.

     Wade swallowed and placed the half-eaten burrito back down finally. “That’s it.”

     “You keep a book locked up?”

     “It’s rare,” he explained. Wade’s eyes were drawn to the briefcase as well and Peter felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

     “What is it?”

     “Doesn’t have a name.”

     “Really?”

     “Not that I’ve ever found,” Wade sighed.

     The waiter crept back on stage behind Peter. He counted off on his fingers silently and then smashed a glass against the wooden set. Wade jumped up out of his seat with a gasp. He snatched the briefcase off the table and clutched it to his chest as his head swiveled around.

     “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a glass…” Peter rushed out. Wade’s gaze landed back on Peter and there was genuine fear in his eyes.

     “Are you okay?” Peter got up and stood next to Wade. His hand came up to touch Wade’s arm and he stared at where Peter touched him but he didn’t shake him off.

     “Let’s go somewhere else. Don’t go back to work,” Wade pleaded.

     Peter was about to protest but he held his tongue. He stared into Wade’s pristine blue eyes.

     “Okay,” he breathed and then the stage’s curtains closed.

     Behind Peter, Lo let out a laugh.

     “Weird guy.”

     Peter scooted in his place back around and saw Lo shaking his head.

     “He’s different, I know that. It’s what made me fall for him so quickly.”

     “Fall for him? _Fall_ for him?” Lo huffed. “You humans speak of love as if it were a ten-story drop. You need some schooling, boy.”

     Peter’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

     “Uh, uh, ungh.” Lo’s hand came up to eye level and Peter immediately felt pressure on both sides of his face. His head slowly turned without his permission and behind him this time was a person squatting by the circle. Their face was hidden behind an open book: _Doctor Faustus_.

     The book dropped to reveal another demon, a bird-like humanoid with reptilian skin. This one was wearing clothes; a black military uniform, fully decorated, and Peter’s eyes bulged when he saw a Nazi insignia on the arm. How fitting for Hell.  

     Maybe more concerning however was the fact that its eyeballs were dangling out of its head by the nerves.

     “What?” the demon asked nonchalantly. “Oh, the face. Right. Have you read _The_ _Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus_? It’s hilarious! Pleasure to meet you…” His hand extended out, right to the edge of the circle. Peter eyed it but didn’t make a move.

     “Oh… you’re one of the smart ones,” the demon sighed. He reached up and plucked the dangling eyes clean out of his skull with a sickening pop. With an eye in each palm, he slapped them back into his head and Peter was more than grateful. The demon’s scaly hands pulled back and he blinked his eyes. He saw the disgusted look on Peter’s face and frowned.

     “Oh come on, everyone loves that one.”

     Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh my god! You’re the demon--”

     “Demon Jeez, Hero of Hell, nice to meet you.”

     “You gave me this!” Peter shouted. He raised his shirt back up and showed off the huge scratches.

     “Oh hi. _That’s_ good work,” Jeez chuckled. “Man… you are lucky to still be breathing. Hmmmm, I can still taste your blood. It’s _delicious_.”

     “You took him.”

     “I know,” Jeez smiled. “Got a medal for it too.” He pointed to his chest where a plastic medal was pinned to his jacket. The medal read ‘ _Award For Excellence_ ’. “Pretty, huh?”

     “Bring him back,” Peter demanded.

     “No.”

     “Please!” he begged.

     “You summoned Lo,” Jeez explained.

     “Then I’ll summon you!”

     “You can’t summon two demons at once! It’s like trying to fuck two chicks at the same time with one dick.”

     Peter looked perplexed for a moment but continued on.

     “Well, if I’m not your master, then why are you here?”

     “Are you kidding? You’re the mortal that tamed the beast. I _had_ to get an exclusive with you.”

     “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean.”

     “Oh, you do. You do know what I mean,” Jeez persisted. “See, I’ve come into contact with an innumerable amount of humans in my day. Sure, I felt a few things for them; disgust, embarrassment, sometimes a bit of humor. And hunger! But the one thing that I never did? Fall in love with any of them.” Jeez leveled Peter with a grilling stare. “That’s why it’s so weird…”

     “What’s weird?”

     “That _it_ fell in love with _you_.”

     “It?” Peter breathed.

     Jeez shrugged. “Well, you call it Wade. I’m gonna tell you a story...” Jeez stood up, his knees cracking, and walked around the edge of the circle. Peter spun and once more the stage stood lit in the darkness like it always lived there. This time the back was set with curtains of shimmering, silver garland. No table was present but a drum set, two guitars, and a mic stand stood under the sparkling light of a lone disco ball. A white poster-board hung from twine above the scene reading: _Jeez & The Go To Hells. _

     “Through song!” Jeez announced, walking up on stage. He peeled off his military coat and underneath was a silver cocktail jacket. Three demons in matching silver coats walked on stage to take their places and each was more monstrous than the last.

     “W-What?” Peter laughed breathlessly. The last thing he had expected from demons when he summoned one was theatrics and musicals, although he warned himself to keep in mind both tactics were similar to smoke and mirrors. How much could he really trust being laid before him?

     “Shh, they’re almost done tuning,” Jeez reprimanded. He picked up the microphone from the stand and the speakers squealed in feedback for a second, making Peter wince. Jeez smiled and then nodded back to the band.

     The drummer counted off with his sticks. The music started, and Jeez began to sing:

   

_Back in the day, when you cretins thought the earth was flat,_

_The ground was a corpse, from another of your combats._

_A solitary demon went picking through the bones,_

_And found a battered soldier still alive under the stones._

 

_The soldier looked up--_

_Looked up!_  The demon back-up singers pipped in.

     _Still numb from the shock--_

_From the shock!_

_Ripped out his heart--_

_Yes he did!_

_Put it into a rock~_

 

The music crescendoed and Jeez belted out the chorus:

 

_Demon boy!_

_You were born out of man’s greed and want._

_Demon boy!_

_Doesn’t know what his heart is good for._

_Demon boy!_

_You are different from the rest of your clan,_

_You abandoned your bloodlust for the love… of a man~_

 

     Peter shifted uncomfortably on the floor. His butt was beginning to go numb from sitting cross-legged on the ground for so long and he was getting more and more pissed off the longer he sat listening to Jeez sing.

 

_Death, you could say, was this knave’s middle name._

_Flick of its tongue sent the mighty to the flames._

_Had no use for mercy, just a hunger for your soul,_

_Somewhere lost inside it was a deep and gaping hole._

 

_The centuries marched on--_

_Marched on!_

_And its heart felt the sting--_

_Felt the sting!_

_The mountains looked down--_

_Yes they did!_

_Every night, and they’d siiiiiing~_

 

     “Can I get a little saxophone?” Jeez asked up close into the mic in a seductive tone. A demon from off-stage came out, golden saxophone slung around his neck and reed between his rotten lips. The brassy solo was impressive, Peter had to admit, but he still felt incredible unease sat there stuck watching. The saxophone finally trilled off and Jeez unfortunately continued, this time speaking as the guitars lazily changed chords to keep the song moving.

     “Wade, you were Hell’s golden reaper. When I saw you kill, I’d say to myself... _damn._ You had it _aaaallll_ going on, and you played it off without a single trace…” Jeez brought the mic right to his beak-like mouth. “ _Of mer-cay._ ”

 

_Something went wrong--_

_Went wrong!_

_And your heart starts to swell--_

_Starts to swell!_

_You cleaned off your soul--_

_Yes you did!_

_And escaped from your Hell~_

 

_Demon boy!_

_Goes fishing in the river Styx._

_Demon boy!_

_Like a combo; six double six._

_Demon boy!_

_He is horny but not in that way._

_Demon boy!_

_You’re a fool if you still want to stay~_

 

     The cymbals crashed and the music dropped, the last slowing chords.

 

_Demon boy…_

_You were born out of man’s greed and want._

_Demon boy…_

_He doesn’t know what that heaaaaart is good for…_

 

     Applause roared out for the band and Peter jumped when he heard it directly behind him. Lo was back and clapping excitedly.

     “Bravo! Bravo! What an exciting story told through song,” he laughed.

     “You’re playing with me,” Peter reiterated. It sounded meek even to his own ears. It was just the two of them alone in the darkness once more and the quiet around them seemed immense in the absence of the performance.

     Lo pointed a finger at Peter. “I don’t play with my food, Dinner.”

     “I’m… I’m done listening to you. You’re only trying to confuse me…”

     “I bring you the demon that took your love… and you insult me!” Lo gasped in mock hurt.

     Peter raised an eyebrow.

     “I thought you say you didn’t know him…”

     “I lied,” Lo shrugged. “I do that sometimes.”

     “You’re disgusting,” Peter sneered.

     “Ah, to call me disgusting is to call Wade disgusting. We’re the same milk. You don’t seem to be a very intelligent lad. Maybe the song went over your head, so I’ll explain it to you for the simple reality that it is. Demons, _all demons_ , will eat, torture, and KILL anything… especially babies,” Lo growled. “So I’ll just reach into the ass of Hell and get him for you.” Lo laughed at his own joke and Peter’s face fell.

     “And what about me? If… if he’s everything you say he is, then... well… where do I fit in?”

     “What about you?” Lo sighed. “That does amuse me to think about, but you see-- the thing about Wade was that pesky heart of his. You never knew what emotion it would settle into next.”

     “He loved me,” Peter whispered.

     “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the facts. You see it happen all the time. He gets restless, he doesn’t understand why no one else does. He _calls_ in the middle of the night.”

     Lo pretends to hold up a phone to his ear and does a shocking and accurate impression of Wade’s voice: “‘ _I don’t know why I feel this way!’_ What am I supposed to tell him? I don’t know why he feels this way! One minute he’s a killer and the next he’s a fucking mess…”

     Peter nods his head, finally getting it. “You were his friend…”

     Lo scowled and a warning growl rumbled out of him.

     “You can’t bring him…” Peter says slowly. “You don’t have the strength it takes to do what I command.”

     “I don’t have the strength?”

     “You can’t even walk!”

     Lo threw his hand out and pretended to grab Peter’s neck. Just as Lo had been able to push his head, Peter could feel as clear as anything the crushing force wrapped around his throat. His hands flew up to his neck to try to stop the suffocating pressure but there was nothing to grab onto.

     “Do you feel that? The essence of my hand breaking through your little barrier and squeezing your neck? I may not be able to kill you from here but I am certainly powerful enough to make you feel my desire! Leave!” Lo growled. “At once!”

     He dropped his hand and Peter felt the air flood back into his lungs. He held his neck and coughed, trying to get his breathing back under control and his heart rate down.

     He didn’t see Lo slink away into the darkness again, leaving Peter completely alone in the dark.  


	3. The Waiter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got back from vacation and was dying to post this! The ending is almost done and should be posted before Halloween!

     “Lo? Hello?” Peter called out. The darkness outside of the row of candles was thick though and he saw nothing out in the shadows. “Lo? Lo!” he shouted, but the demon did not answer.

     “Goddammit,” Peter cursed under his breath, beating himself up. “Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit…”

 _Goddammit_.

     Peter whipped his head around, looking for the mysterious voice he heard.

_What was that?_

     He looked around again but there wasn’t a single soul in sight. And yet, the same familiar-sounding voice spoke again.

     _Who is it?_

     Peter paused and then his eyes widened.

     _It’s saying what I’m thinking. I just thought that! And that! I said that in my head, oh my God! I can hear my thoughts out loud! Say something out loud right now!_

     Peter panicked and opened his mouth. “Blaaaahg.”

     _What the heck was that?! Say a sentence, a FULL sentence!_

“The. Boy. Went. To. The. Store.”

     Peter shook his head, frustrated.

     _That was my sentence? Shit! Okay, why am I hearing my own voice? Where is my voice coming from… AH!_

Peter looked down at his lap and saw that suddenly, not only was the open wound in his palm weeping and gangrenous looking, but also wiggling open and closed as if speaking.

_Did that get bigger? Oh shit! It’s my cut! It’s reading my mind and then saying it out loud! Okay, clear your mind, just clear your mind…_

     Peter tried closing his eyes and exhaling slowly but it didn’t work for long.

_Damn this is weird… Shit, fuck! Ignore him, ignore the hand. Wade is a demon, he’s probably always been a demon, but does that mean he really didn’t love me?_

     Peter scowled and began yelling out loud at his hand.

     “Of course he loved me, I know he did!”

_And yet here we are, sitting in some dimensional pit stop hearing stories about him slaughtering men for sport._

     “Well, that’s just it,” Peter laughed nervously. “These… these demons are liars, Lo admitted that.”

_But what about the book?_

     “The book!”

_A human wouldn’t have a book like that. He could have only gotten it one place…_

     “No…”

_Hell. He was from Hell._

     “But… he loved me,” Peter whispered.

_Did he? Maybe you were just a refuge from the demons. The perfect patsy to lie low with._

     “Asshole!”

_I know!_

     Peter grabbed his wounded hand and clutched it to his chest, his heart pounding.

     “I’m… having a conversation… with my brain through my hand…”

     “Missed me?”

     “Shut up! Shut up my brain!” Peter screamed at his hand.

     “You’re silly,” Lo stated, back in front of Peter. He was smoking a cigarette in a lazy fashion and watching Peter with a curious look.

     Peter whipped his gaze back down to his hand but this time it was normal. Bloody and scabbing over painfully from the knife’s slice, but perfectly normal.

     “Where were you?” Peter asked miserably.

     “I went to get my smokes.”

     “Demons smoke?”

     “We do anything we want to do.” Lo took a quick drag on the cigarette. “It’s cool,” he chuckled and then puffed out a perfect smoke ring. When Peter didn’t reply, he gave him a look-over with a skeptical eye. “The circle is closing in on you,” he said, pointing with the cigarette to Peter’s hand. “The more you sit in there the more the brain leaks...So! I found something for you.”

     “Wade?”

     “No. No way brother.” Lo shook his head. “He’s in some serious lockup right now. But! I brought a couple of kids to speak in his place.”

     Peter turned his head and behind him was a white linen sheet stretched taut like a fabric wall. A warm light shone behind it and after a second the shadows of figures flickered into solid shapes as two forms approached the fabric from the other side and slowly focused into silhouettes. The shapes of a man and a woman became clear but they did not stop approaching. Their hands touched the fabric, tenting the stretch of it with the pressure, and bright scarlet blood immediately drenched the white linen. Their hands, arms, chest and breasts pressed forward but the fabric held tight like a membrane keeping them locked inside. Blood smeared in large patches as the forms writhed on the other side, trying to escape.

     Lo snickered. “I named them… Wayne and Wanda,” he laughed, giving himself a good chuckle.

     “What are they?”

     “They used to be human. Guess who killed them. Now they live here. Wayne! Tell them what they do to you here.”

     The tall, male figure turned its head towards the direction of Lo’s voice then began to speak in an over-the-top, dramatic, moaning voice.

     “Well, I am laid down on what appears to be a very large cheese grater. There are two beasts, one on each end, that grab my hands and feet with their mouths and pull me back and forth… slowly… shredding my back into little peelings. Then, a funnel is placed in my mouth and pounds of broken glass are forced down my throat. My neck is then sledgehammered black and rats are brought in to gnaw it off. It takes the rats about… twelve minutes to chew through, but I can’t always be exact with the time because I often lose count due to the high VOLUMES OF PAIIIIIIIN,” Wayne shouted out and Peter winced. He turned his head back but Lo was just laying there, looking bored.

     “My head then, still living, is placed into an oversized blender--”

     “Thank you, Wayne!” Lo interrupted.

     “Oh, okay…” Wayne said sadly. “But there’s more…”

     Completely disgusted, Peter whipped his head to Lo. “What is this? Why are you showing me this?”

     “This is good stuff!” Lo shouted, tossing the butt of his cigarette off into the dark. “This is the biz, how we operate. You want me to find you Wade, I want you to know what Wade is…”

     “It tricked us.”

     “What?” Peter asked, turning back to the female figure behind the fabric.

     “The demon,” Wanda explained. “It tricked us. It promised us a baby.”

     “One piece of life for our eternal souls,” Wayne added.

     “Oh stop with the dramatics!” Wanda groaned.

     “Yes, sorry, Wanda, that some of us still _FEEL_.”

     “Oh, fuck you.”

     Wayne hissed like an angry cat and the two of them began to aggressively whisper back and forth, pushing each other.

     “Silence!” Lo growled. “Idiots… and the baby?”

     Wanda slapped Wayne’s arm once more before straightening up and answering. “That demon… it gave us what we wanted, and for nine months I knew my true purpose in life. It was to raise this child and love it.”

     “I still say we should have tried in vitro first,” Wayne mumbled. Wanda hissed in response. “What?! Before consulting the devil?”

     “You’re the one that said we needed candles! You can’t summon a demon without candles!”

     “Well if we’re gonna do it, then let’s do it right! I’m sorry about this,” Wayne said, turning back to Peter and Lo. “The torture down here turns her into a real mega bitch!”

     “What?!” Wanda snarled.

     “WHAT?!”

     The pair began slapping each other again and Peter and Lo sat there awkwardly for a minute before Lo grew impatient and let out a deep, rumbling growl. The two stopped right away.

     “Sorry…” they both said together.

     “The child…” Lo nudged.

     Wanda moaned. “It died.” Her and Wayne made choked off, sobbing noises but the dramatics only lasted a moment before Wanda stopped and hissed at Peter.

     “Hey, you. Get us out of here.”

     “I’m sorry…”

     “Please! Take us with you!”

     “Yeah, please mister,” Wayne added. “It really sucks here.”

     “I’m sorry, I can’t,” Peter explained, but Wanda didn’t listen.

     “Take us with you! We can’t go back there.”

     “Please, mister. Hey look. If you can only take one, take me,” Wayne begged.

     “No! I’m a woman,” Wanda shouted. She wiggled her nude form against the blood stained fabric. “I can repay you in ways you’d like to be repaid…”

     “I can do that too! I mean, I will!”

     “I’m not helping you!” Peter declared. “Go back to Hell and leave me alone!”

     Dead silent, Wayne and Wanda stepped back away from the fabric and their shadows grew wobbly and hazy as they left.

     Lo laughed and when Peter turned back to him he could see Lo shaking his head to himself. “Now that’s funny,” Lo said. “Think about all the times you told someone to go to Hell and now think about exactly what it is you’re wishing upon them.”

     Peter was sick and tired of Lo’s games. “Just get him for me.”

     “I can’t-- and it’s not because I’m a ‘cripple’. You want to know why my legs drag behind me like a serpent’s tail?”

     “I don’t care,” Peter said. He felt exhausted, his mind racing with everything.

     “Wade. My legs were crushed when he was returned.”

     Peter’s eyebrows knitted together and he gave Lo a questioning glare. “You helped him?”

     “A demon, heart or not, should never entertain the idea that love is the answer to its questions. He’s back home now, but no longer free. Held in the deepest pits that inflict the sharpest pains. If ever a man was detained… it’s him. Would you really want to see him again? Given all you know?”

     “I...I don’t know what are lies and what are not.”

     “Nor were you meant to.” Lo sighed, dropping his head, and then glanced up at Peter. “Would you like to see him again? Then think about him.”

     Peter frowned, confused, but Lo just gently directed him to turn back around with a nod. The stage lit up as soon as Peter thought of the memory and this time the background set was painted just like his bedroom with a huge, decorated Christmas tree right in the dead center. Peter and Wade were sitting up on stage, cross-legged and across from each other at the foot of the tree.

     Peter wiped his sweaty palms off on the knees of his sweatpants before he reached behind his back and pulled out a box wrapped in red paper with a golden bow on top. Wade smiled at Peter’s nervous face and then down at the box and Peter had to push the box forward into Wade’s hands to make him take it. Wade looked at the box again like it was a puzzle and then placed it on the ground in front of him, smiling at Peter once more.

     Peter huffed out a laugh and picked the box back up for Wade, tilting the side towards him to prompt him to unwrap the paper.

     “Oooh,” Wade said, finally taking the box and unwrapping the paper outside. He lifted the lid off the plain, white cardboard box and pulled aside the matching red tissue paper. He looked confused as he reached inside.

     “A book?” he asked.

     “Have you ever read it?” Peter said, watching Wade pick up the book inside. On the cover in large, ornate font read: _The_ _Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus._

     Wade just kept staring at the outside. “No…”

     “Well, it’s good! It’s uh, I mean, I figured you like rare books since you keep that one locked up, so it’s uh… it’s a 1663 reprint, so you know… not one of the oldest but it’s still pretty old…” he trailed off, trying to sound hopeful.

     “You thought I might like this so you got it for me?”

     “Yeah,” Peter breathed. “I mean, do you like it?”

     A smile broke out on Wade’s face, making his eyes sparkle in the fairy-lights of the tree. “I think I do!” he said in a surprised voice. “I’ve never read a book before… except mine…”

     “You’ve never read a _book_?” Peter asked, his eyebrows raising.

     “Except mine,” Wade repeated.

     “Nothing? Never? Not even in school?”

     “Well, _yes_ ,” Wade said, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “Oh yeah, in school. I’ve read a couple hundred in school. No, I meant, _other_ than school.” His eyes darted to the side and then back to the book in his hands. He turned it over and even checked out the spine before flipping the old, yellow pages. “What’s it about?”

     “Uh, it’s about a guy who sells his soul to the devil for knowledge and power,” Peter said in a spooky, mysterious voice. Wade only laughed at him.

     “Well that’s stupid. There’s nothing to know. Nothing worth that much pain at least.”

     “Oh yeah?” Peter chuckled. “You been there?”

     “No! Never!” Wade defended loudly. His eyes shifted away again and then laughed, playing off his strange reaction.

     Peter couldn’t help but smile. “You’re so bizarre.” Wade just smiled back at him.

     “Well…” he said.

     “Well… what?” Wade asked.

     “Well, I just thought we’d, you know, exchange our presents tonight.”

     Wade’s face fell. “Your… present…”

     “You… really didn’t get me a present?” When Wade’s face grew even sadder, Peter gasped. “Oh my god, no, no, Wade… babe, it’s fine. I didn’t mean to expect one, I just, you know, with Christmas I thought there’d be the whole… you know, _thing_ … I have no clue. Babe, it’s so not important,” he said, reaching out and grabbing Wade’s shoulders with a soft touch.

     “I’m so sorry. We never celebrated Christmas. I thought it was just an all month party that ended December 25th.”

     A smile tugged at Peter’s lips. “You’re serious?”

     Wade just looked at him hopefully. “Do you hate me?”

     “I think I might actually love you a little more now. That’s weird,” Peter said, making Wade laugh and the two chuckled to themselves.

     “I told you, I’m a weird guy,” Wade smiled.

     “Good.”

     Wade leaned in and his lips found Peter’s. Peter could feel Wade still smiling and he happily deepened their kiss, enjoying the warm burn of Wade’s five o’clock shadow against his own face. It was so nice and sweet and just hungry enough to make Peter’s blood rush in his veins but suddenly Wade was pulling away with a gasp. He slapped Peter’s shoulder excitedly and Peter laughed as it pushed him backwards.

     “I do have a present for you!” Wade shouted, standing up and running off the stage.

     “Wait, wait! You can’t wrap something I already own! That’s not how it works!”

     After a second Wade was running back, his briefcase in hand. He sat down in front of Peter again and with a smile, placed the case directly in front of him.

     “You’re giving me your book?” Peter whispered.

     “Well, you gave me a book.”

     “Touché.”

     Peter opened the briefcase and almost gasped when he saw it. The outside was bound in dark, wrinkled leather of some sort but what was most disturbing was what looked to be a cat’s eye embedded right in the center of the cover. It stared unblinking at Peter and made his skin crawl. Carefully, he reached for the book but when he went to open it, Wade immediately reached out and stopped him.

     “No! That is something you can never do.”

     “Open it?” he asked.

     “Never! Do you promise me?”

     Peter laughed. “Wade, it’s just--”

     “Peter, no. You have to burn this book, no questions… no looking. Just some day when I’m not around, burn it.”

     “Wade,” he breathed. “What is this?”

     “My past. Never ask me that question again.” Wade’s face was incredibly serious and it scared Peter to his core. “Burn. This. Book,” Wade broke out into an honest smile, “and wish me a Merry Christmas.”

     Peter blinked, thinking to himself. “... Merry Christmas.”

     Wade leaned in and kissed Peter sweetly and then the stage lights went dark.

     “Demoooon,” Lo said in a sing-songy voice.

     _Why wasn’t he honest with you?_

Peter looked down and the wound on his palm was moving again, sickly and black and wiggling.

     _He obviously didn’t trust you enough with the truth._

“He was ashamed of it,” Peter tried.

     _Or he had an agenda and he knew exactly how to play you._

“No…”

     _Come ooooon, you know what you are. You’re a pushover, ridiculously bad social skills, and zero friends or family. All you had was him and he knew that._

“No, we worked because we were different.”

     _You worked because that’s the way he wanted it. He needed a place to hide. You were nothing but a FAKE MUSTACHE._

“Shut up!” Peter shouted, punching his fist into his palm and groaning out as pain shot through his hand and up his arm.

     “The circle is closing in on you…” Lo drawled. Peter snapped his head around.

     “I can deal.”

     Lo laughed heartily. “You kids crack my shit up. If any of you knew actually what was going on up there in that thing you call a brain?” He started laughing harder. “Wooo!” Lo swirled his index finger next to his temple and chuckled.

     Out from the darkness another chuckle echoed. It grew louder from the shadows and eventually Peter saw a figure pushing a cart emerge into the light. Upon closer inspection, the cart appeared to be a silver drink cart, covered in a small, white table cloth and smattered with assorted slim liquor bottles with metal spouts. One tea-light candle in a glass bowl sat lit, flickering beautiful colors of light through the bottles.

     The man pushing the cart looked to be human and completely normal, wearing a black tuxedo with a black, neat, bow tie. He was laughing but the he was the only one, Lo now gone.

     “True on so many levels,” the waiter said, wiping a tear from his eye and his laughter finally trailed off. “May I take your order, sir?”

     Peter just stared at him, his mouth open.

     “Perhaps a drink to start with?”

     Peter’s eyes lit up. “I know you!”

     “I doubt that.”

     “You were my waiter!”

     “I am _the_ waiter, sir. Now… how about that drink?”

     “No.” Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

     “I assure you sir. I am the best bartender in this room.”

     Peter glanced around. Lo was still gone, but the giant rat from early was back. It was resting its head in its fleshy hands, watching both the men closely and squeaking very softly.

     “I believe that,” Peter started. “But I don’t want anything except Wade.”

     “I will make you the best drink you have ever tasted.”

     “I don’t want a drink. I want Wade.”

     “I will call it… Wade,” the waiter said with a smile.    

     He began to sway from side to side, as if to music only he could hear. He bopped his hips left and then right, shaking his hands out and really starting to dance in place as he picked up a liquor bottle and poured it into a shaker before him. He spun in place, snapping his fingers and took bottle after bottle off the top of the cart, pouring long swoops of liquid down into the shaker with pizzazz. It was more of an interpretive dance than mixing a cocktail.

     Peter looked to the side and the humanoid-rat was swaying along with the waiter as it watched.

     The waiter put down one last bottle and scooped up the shaker. He slapped the top on and shook it left and right, swirling it in his hands as he dragged it down his body in a provocative manner. Moving on, he poured the liquid into a shot glass, picked it up and swigged it into his mouth, grabbed a lighter, and blew out the drink into a spray of dazzling fire.

     The waiter then plucked a small, blue, glass bottle off the corner of the cart. He popped the tiny cork and grabbed a glass tumbler full of ice from under the cart. He poured the whole bottle in and walked around the side of the cart, grabbing a sparkling, crystal knife from the back of his coat.  

     The tumbler was placed right next to the edge of the painted circle. Holding the handle of the knife, the waiter pushed the glass with the tip of the blade until the whole thing slid into the circle.

     Peter just stared down at the glass, blue liquid swirling amongst the ice cubes.

     “I don’t want it.”

     “It’s not poison,” Lo said, behind Peter again, forcing him to turn back. He didn’t respond though, so Lo continued. “It weakens the being. I can’t bring Wade to you, you have to go to him. It’s the only way.”

     “You… actually want me to go into Hell?”

     “Yes, I do! That drink loosens the soul, allowing you to travel _relatively_ unharmed through the fires and pits. It’s the only way a living man can pass through Hell. Now, is your Wade worth what you have to do to see him?”

     Peter spun back around, refusing to face Lo. With a shaky hand he picked up the glass. It felt freezing cold to the touch and when he brought it to his lips his breath smoked off the cold air. He took the plunge and chugged back the drink in two gulps. The second he finished though, Lo began a low, deep laugh. Once he started he really got himself going.

     “What’s so funny?” Peter asked.

     “It WAS poison!” Lo shouted. He burst out completely.

     Peter turned his head, pissed, and Jeez was squatting in front of him again. The demon waved meekly.

     “Just me, buddy. Dude. Dude, I heard you just fell for the old ‘drink-this-and-you-can-walk-through-Hell’ bit. Hmm?”

     “Bring back Lo,” Peter demanded. Jeez only laughed.

     “Am I dying?” he gasped.

     “Absolutely,” Jeez said. “But slowly. Demons like to use slow poisons so they can watch you twitch.”

     “Is there anything I can do?”

     “Leave!” he shouted. “Get to a hospital, pump it out!”

     “I’m not leaving without him.”

     “Ain’t no him. Stop calling it male, that’s a human cage. _We_ are not defined by sex.” Jeez took out from behind his back a cigarette perched in a long-handled cigarette holder. He pulled a long drag on it, thinking.

     “So, this whole… _love thing_. Give me the breakdown.”

     Peter shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

     “Well, pretend I’m Wade.” He pitched his voice higher. “Hi Peter, I’m Wade, blah blah blah.”

     Peter just frowned at him.   

     “One time,” Jeez started, “I tortured a guy who said it felt like a lump in your throat that you couldn’t swallow. Sounded annoying…”

     “He was wrong. A lump is too simple. Love is more complicated than that.”   

     “Oh? Oh, so the lump theory is just bullshit?”

     Peter was losing his patience now. “Every theory is bullshit. There’s no way I can define something you’ll never feel.”

     “I’m a demon,” Jeez defended. “I can do anything.”

     “Except love.”

     “Well… maybe I can, but I don’t want you to know that I can.”

     “That’s a childish way to go about it.”

     “Not being capable of love is a gift. I present Exhibit A as ultimate proof.” He gestured towards Peter. “One poor fool slowly dying in a circle.”

     Peter smiled and laughed to himself.

     “What’s that about?” Jeez asked sourly.

     “That’s my secret.”

     “Peter, let me offer you some really groovy advice. Read the chant. Close the dimension. Get to a hospital and finish your life. Cuz this shit? Bloooows.”

     Peter just kept smiling.

     “Stop that. You look like a child that just proudly shit his pants.”

     “What’s the matter, Jeez?” Peter laughed. “Can’t handle the fact that you don’t know everything?”

     “Warning! You die here… and you belong to us.”

     “You got a song about that?”

     “Actually, I do… buuuuut it’s missing the base line and hasn’t been mixed yet so you don’t get to hear it!” He stood up, upset, and flipped Peter the bird before he walked off.


	4. Wade

     Peter was all alone. The candles were nearly at the bottom of their wicks, barely casting any light at all around him.

     His fingertips felt cold. He tried to blow on them but his palm flared up in pain and Peter hissed. The skin crawled and tingled along the gouge, like maggots feeding deep in the wound.

_You’re dying._

     “I guess I am,” Peter said. He didn’t even bother to look down at his palm as it spoke to him, he could feel it plenty enough.

_You’re terrified of death._

     “More than anything.”

_And you’re dying._

     “Should I go then? Abandon all this? Leave him?”

_I don’t want to die._

     Peter scoffed. “I don’t want to die.”

_I don’t want to die…_

     “...but I don’t want to live without him.”

_You HAD to say that out loud._

     Peter glared at the gnarly wound suspiciously. The skin was black and weeping and it tingled endlessly. Deep in the skin, maybe already deep into the bone as well.

_I need to get rid of it. If I don’t, it’ll keep talking to me. It will betray me and lie to me. I have to get rid of it. Am I considering cutting off my hand? I am… I am, oh shit! But I have to!_

     “I have to,” Peter whispered. His good hand drifted across the floor to the knife beside him. His fingers curled around the handle and when he lifted the blade, the candle light was still strong enough to glint off the ruby-stained tip.

_It’s just as manipulative as they are. I can’t trust it. Oh god, this is gonna hurt. Can I do this? I have to. There’s no choice, oh my god, oh my god._

     His fingers readjusted on the handle and he swallowed through the dryness of his sore throat.

_Okay, I have to cut off my hand, okay, okay, just do it!_

     Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest, against his rib cage, shaking his poised arm as it pulled back ready.

_Do it! Do it! DO IT!_

     “Hey! Dumbass!” Lo shouted behind him. “You looking to speed up the death process or what?”

     His hand was normal. Aching, but that horrible crawling was gone.

     Peter dropped the knife to the floor. His racing heart worked to slow down and all Peter could think about was the poison seeping into his system, into his _blood_.

     “You poisoned me.”

     “And?”

     Peter glared at Lo, his hurt hand squeezed into a fist near his chest.

     “Why you? Why did he mark your page?”

     Lo shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe he thought I was cute.”

     “You’re so afraid to give me a straight answer. If I’m just a stupid human, why do I scare you so much?”

     “The safety of that circle has swelled your ego something fierce,” Lo frowned.

     “Why did you help him escape?”

     “What I do on my own time is no concern of yours.”

     “Your body was crushed!”

     “And rightfully so! I PAID MY PRICE! There’s no need for you to be involved in demon affairs.”

     Peter started coughing, his lungs wheezing, and he curled in on himself until he caught his breath again.

     “You’re not built for Hell, trust me,” Lo sighed.

     Peter let out a weak laugh. “I’m touched you’re so concerned for my well-being.”

     “There’s nothing you can do for him. He broke a sacred law. He is a vile creature!”

     “Maybe I don’t care about that,” Peter whispered.

     “Oh, brother, you really should.”

     “That’s who he was here. That’s not who he is in my world.”

     “An escaped murderer is _still_ a murderer.”

     “There was more,” Peter rasped.

     “What?”

     “To that night, there was more…”

     Peter turned in his circle and concentrated hard. With his will, he forced the stage back and this time Peter and Wade were back on stage in Peter’s room-- in Peter’s bed.

     Wade had taken his sweet time working Peter open, first with his fingers; slow and gentle and stretching just so. He had Peter completely nude, face down on the sheets, and Wade seemed fascinated by every little sound that he could pull out of Peter-- working twice as hard as soon as he found another spot or trick that drove Peter wild and shook him loose.

     By the time Wade added his lips and tongue Peter came hard, his cock twitching, trapped between his stomach and the sheets but Wade wasn’t done with him yet.

     He could hear Wade touching himself behind him; his fist slick with spit and working his cock as he continued to eat Peter out. He added three fingers, squeezed together, against the tight furl of muscles. Peter’s body opened up for him a little more with every rock of his hand.

     When Wade felt Peter was ready he pulled away, reaching to the side for the condom tossed on the sheets. Peter tried to catch his breath and he heard the crinkle of the foil wrapper being torn open and Wade hissed as he rolled it on.

     Wade’s body pressed Peter down into the mattress, thick and corded with muscle, and he moaned at the way Wade’s body completely encompassed his own. Wade reached down and rubbed the head of his cock against Peter’s hole, drawing it out, before he pressed forward with his hips, forcing Peter to stretch wide around the tip as he worked it in.

     When he couldn’t press any deeper, Wade pulled right back and set up a steady, rocking pace. Peter was still so tight but every thrust of Wade’s hips forced a moan out of his chest. The burn of it sizzled his nerves, lighting up his spine and sending jolts of pleasure into his gut.

     All he could hear, besides the slick sounds of Wade pushing into him, was Wade’s breath next to his ear. So close-- the hot air ghosting over the shell of Peter’s ear and over the sweaty skin of his neck. Raspy pants in between kisses and nibbles along the slope of Peter’s throat and to the sensitive little spot behind his ear that always ricocheted shivers right down his spine.

     “ _Ffffuck_ ,” Wade hissed. “You feel so fucking good, Peter. I want you to come again for me, you think you can do that, sweetheart?”

     “Yes,” he breathed. “ _Fuck, Wade, yes.”_

     Wade’s hand grabbed Peter’s hip in a tight hold, tilting him up just-so to give the perfect angle as he pistoned his hips. Stars lit up behind Peter’s eyes and he moaned with force as Wade threw him over the edge, Wade’s hips still snapping as he chased down his own orgasm. He groaned a low baritone sound and he spilled into Peter’s warm body, his hips twitching in little jerks as the waves of it rolled through his body. His face nuzzled against the side of Peter’s and he turned his neck enough so he could kiss Wade lazily.

     After a minute or so, Wade pulled back and eased himself back out of Peter. He pulled the condom off carefully, tossing it into the trash bucket and falling down into the sheets next to Peter who flipped over out of the damp spot. He rested his head on Peter’s chest to listen to his heart as it slowed back down and it didn’t take long for their eyes to drift closed.

     The lights on stage dimmed and strands of tiny twinkle lights lit up high on set; makeshift stars in the night as the lovers slept. The peaceful slumber did not last for long though.

     Wade started to stir on the bed. His legs slid under the sheets and his head shook on the pillow from the visions only he could see. Like a loaded spring, Wade shot upright, screaming at the top of his lungs.

     Peter woke immediately and grabbed at Wade’s hands clutching at the sides of his head. He wrapped his arms around Wade, stilling him, and only then did Wade finally wake up and stop screaming.

     “It’s okay...it’s okay…” Peter murmured into the side of Wade’s neck. His breathing began to slow and Peter just kept whispering little nothings until the moment passed away.

     “That was a bad one.”

     Wade didn’t answer. He scooted to the foot of the bed and reached underneath. He grabbed his boxers and slipped them on, pausing to toss Peter his, and then walked to the dresser where he grabbed his pack of cigarettes, bic lighter and ashtray. He sat back on the bed at the foot and plucked a cigarette out and sparked it with shaky hands.

     “Do you want to talk about it?” Peter tried, but Wade just kept smoking. He leaned over and turned the bedside lamp on to get a better look at him. “Maybe it’s time to see a doctor… I’ve been reading about night terrors lately and--”

     “Fuck, Peter. It’s just a dream, everyone has them.”

     “Not like you do,” Peter whispered. “And you’re talking more in your sleep lately.”

     “What am I saying?” He pulled another long drag on the cigarette.

     “Mostly you just apologize.”

     “Hmm.”

     “Wade? I think--”

     Suddenly, Wade’s head whipped to the side and Peter froze. Wade’s face knitted in concern and he leaned over to smash out the cigarette in the ashtray on the floor.

     “Tell me you don’t smell anything,” Wade said.

     “Weird…”

     Wade turned to Peter. “What?”

     “I think I smell sulfur.”

     “Shit.”

     A hand shot out of the shadows and grabbed onto Wade’s neck. The scaly monster’s hand yanked Wade off the bed but Wade manage to toss the demon aside when he lunged for him. The demon fell back with a tremendous thud but quickly got himself back to his feet. Wade was up, knees bent and arms out to defend.

     “This guy?” Jeez sassed, tossing a thumb at Peter.

     “Jeez…”

     “Nice costume.”

     “Go. Back,” Wade growled.

     “Oh, I plan on it.”

     “I’m stronger than you are,” Wade threatened, his stance poised and ready to go.

     “Brother, you’re long time out of practice.”

     Jeez threw his arms out and Wade flew back with the force without being touched, losing his balance just in time for Jeez to tackle him to the floor. Jeez landed on Wade hard, trapping him down.

     Peter got up and tried to push Jeez off of Wade but before he even reached him, Jeez flung his arm backwards and Peter flew back onto the bed. The skin on his chest split open in four gashes, blood splattering down into the sheets.

     Wade held up his hands, pointing his fingers into handguns at Jeez’s eyes, and the back of the demon’s skull exploded outward in two pinpoint sprays. Wade threw Jeez’s limp body off of himself and crawled up on the bed.

     “Peter!”

     Jeez rose up off the floor like a zombie from the grave. His eyeballs dangled out of his head but it didn’t seem to bother him. Wade spun on the bed and turned to him in a defensive pose.

     “He’s dying.”

     “I should hope so,” Jeez smiled. “I don’t scratch.”

     “Let me help him and I’ll go with you.”

     There was hesitation, but Jeez nodded and motioned for Wade to go ahead.

     Peter’s chest was shaking, the air barely reaching his lungs in harsh pants.

     “Wade…” he rasped out. Blood speckled his lips.

     Wade shushed him, a finger to his cold lips, before he leaned over and kissed him for just a second.

     “I have to leave…” Wade said as he pulled away. He raised his hand over Peter’s chest, hovering an inch over the split flesh. A breeze picked up in the enclosed room, warm and fresh, and Peter’s lungs caught the air. He finally found his breath and he gasped the blessed oxygen down into his core. The pain shooting across his chest ebbed away.

     “Sorry…” Wade whispered.

     He stood up off the bed, eyes glued to Peter as the bleeding slowed. Jeez huffed impatiently.

     “The book?”

     Wade sighed and walked around to pick up his briefcase next to his side of the bed. When he stood back in front of Jeez, the demon grabbed his arm and jerked him towards the door, off the stage.

     “Wade!” Peter tried to call out but it was too late. He was gone.

     The stage grew dark.

     “You came here for love,” Lo observed. “You’re no better than Faust.”

     “Faust sought knowledge and power.”

     “Which is all you seek. Love would have had you destroy that book as you had promised. A demon cannot harm it, only a mortal can. You…” Lo pointed at Peter, “betrayed your love.”

     “That’s the difference between you and me. Humanity is allowed to make mistakes. That’s expected of us.”

     “Well that’s stupid,” Lo scoffed.

     Peter shook his head. “What do you know of how we feel? Except what you get out of us through torture. You demons claim to be all-powerful yet you’re beaten by your own jealousy towards us.”

     Lo started laughing. It was a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the dark. Suddenly the waiter with his cart was back, laughing just as hard as Lo. High-pitched squeaks picked up and Peter’s head spun to see the huge rat, holding its stomach and laughing its disgusting squeals. Jeez was back as well, eyes dangling out of his skull again, and bellowing out laughter just as loud as the rest of them.

     The cacophony crescendoed, rattling around in Peter’s aching head. He slapped his hands to his ears but it did nothing to quiet the racket. It pierced his eardrums, shook his spine, and pressed in on him from every side like he was being dragged deeper and deeper into the crushing ocean.

     He couldn’t take it anymore-- it was going to kill him.

     “AAAAHHHH!” Peter screamed, still clutching his head as he stood. Lo instantly shut his mouth and craned his neck up.

     “DEMON!” Peter shouted. “Foul, horrible, disgusting demon. I am your master and you are my dog. When I summoned you, I summoned the power to command you and when I say roll over, that is EXACTLY what you will do. I have seen you toss yourself around this room, in a dozen different forms, planting seeds in my head and laughing as you watched them grow. I say no more! I am done with the trickery. I will not go away, no matter how many times you poison me. I summoned you! Now, I command you, Demon Lo… scour the depths of Hell… find my man. Sit him down in front of me, and _fuck off!_ ”

     Peter panted, his breath wheezy. Lo scowled and turned to drag himself off, slinking away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

     Alone, Peter sighed out a shaky breath and his legs started to give out on him, almost spilling him to the floor. He sat cross-legged again slowly and clutched his arms over his stomach, folding in on himself in pain. His throat felt like fire and yet he was freezing. His muscles shivered uncontrollably and his toes and fingers were almost completely numb.

     Peter reached out and pushed away the book in front of him. Underneath was his photo of Wade. He picked it up and it shook in his hand. Peter dropped it with a soft sob, wrapping his arm back around himself.

     The last of the candle light blinked tiny orbs of light. Some of the candle wicks had already singed out in the liquid wax.

     “Peter? Baby boy?”

     Wade’s voice rung out in the darkness and Peter’s head whipped up. Laying right in front of him and propping himself up on his arms was Wade. He was dressed in his red flannel shirt that Peter loved best and dark jeans but no shoes. His legs trailed out behind him.

     “Wade,” Peter gasped.

     “Strange place to be picking up guys.”

     Peter chuckled even though it hurt his chest. “Yeah…”

     “You kept my book.” Wade glanced down at the tome but Peter couldn’t pull his eyes away from Wade.

     “Yeah, I tried to burn it actually… Don’t know why I couldn’t.”

     “It’s okay. They were pissed when they found Faust in the case,” Wade chuckled. He smiled softly and Peter had an even harder time pulling air into his chest as his eyes watered.

     “I’m here to take you with me.”

     Wade’s face grew sad and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I know, I’m giddy, can’t you tell?”

     “I need you,” Peter choked out before his chest ached. “I need you to tell me the chant I need to use to take you back with me.”

     “You still want to save me? After all you’ve heard? Hell’s M.V.P…”

     “I don’t believe that. I know your true heart. I know it’s not capable of that.”

     “But it is,” Wade insisted.

     Peter stared at him, shivering through a bout of tremors and willing his teeth to stop clattering.

     “Then… Then tell me you won’t eat me and I’ll make you my husband.”

     Wade’s eyes were wet and his voice was thick. “You love me.”

     Peter nodded, trying to catch his breath as the poison ate him from the inside out.

     “Page 1,108,” Wade blurted out.

     Peter grabbed the book and flipped it open. He landed on the page and locked eyes with Wade.

     “ _Tiana_ ,” Wade prompted.

     “ _Tiana_ ,” he repeated.

     “ _Fate see may._ ”

     “ _Fate see may._ ”

     “ _Neft tiana see may_.”

     “ _Neft tiana see may_.”

     “ _Ton corsay see_ ,” Wade finished.

     “ _Ton. Corsay. See_.”

     Wade lifted his right hand and slowly placed it across the barrier of the circle and down onto the painted lines. He lifted his other hand and lowered it inside as well, dragging himself into Peter’s space.

     He leaned in and Peter’s eyes fluttered shut as their lips touched. It was their softest, sweetest kiss and all Peter could think about was all that time wasted; alone and drifting through life.

     Wade pulled back unfortunately and picked up the empty tumbler next to Peter. He brought it to his lips and spit the sapphire poison back into the glass. He placed the cup down and glanced up shyly at Peter as he leaned in a pressed their foreheads together.

     “I can’t go with you.”

     “Of course you can, we’ll hide. They won’t find us.”

     “No, they will, and next time they’ll kill you.”

     “Then let me stay here.”

     Wade shook his head against Peter’s. “No, no. This is not where I will let you spend eternity. You have no choice at all in this matter.”

     “I… I have nothing in my life without you there.”

     “I’m not a man, Peter,” Wade spoke, the sound of his voice layered with many others. “I’m not human.”

     “But… you love me.”

     “Keep your word to me,” Wade begged.

     He kissed Peter once more and scooted back, just outside the circle once more. He raised his hand and the air swooped as he sealed the barrier shut behind him.

     “You’re going home.”

     Wade turned and began to drag himself away, into the all consuming shadows. He was almost gone by the time Peter found his voice.

     “Wade!” he called out. His eyes widened for a second, but then softened as he finally understood.

     Lo stared at him, just from the edges of the shadows, a look of genuine sadness and guilt on his face. Peter watched silently as he finished dragging himself off.

     The last of the candle light fizzed out, but Peter didn’t bother with the lighter. He stood up and walked over to the window. He ripped the black cloth off and the solid rectangle of particle board came down, spilling light into his small apartment. The sounds of taxis and throngs of people down on the busy city street clambered all the way up to his floor but felt miles away.

     He walked to his kitchen and came back with a metal trash bucket and a bottle of lighter fluid. The book went up as easy as anything, no demons, no curses, no tricks-- just paper and ink crackling away.

     Peter dropped to the floor and watched it burn the whole way through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and have a spooky Halloween!~*


End file.
